


Blind Fate

by trueroyalty



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueroyalty/pseuds/trueroyalty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blind dates are notoriously bad, it's just a fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jerakeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerakeen/gifts).



> A/N: A long, long time ago, in a kradamadness post far, far away, jerakeen requested a fic about the boys going on a blind date, and having it be awesome instead of awkward. This was originally posted as a two (three?) part comment fic.
> 
>  
> 
> Word Count: 5,460

 

  
“It’s one date. _One date_ , Kris. You aren’t going to _die_.” Megan insists, holding out the leather jacket she’d picked for his ensemble.

Kris pouts, grabbing the jacket like it’s done something to personally offend him, and thrusts his arms through the holes angrily.

“You don’t know that. He could be a serial killer. He could- he could be Jeffrey Dahmer’s protégé! You could be sending me to my death!”

Unmoved, Megan merely smiles at Kris’ dramatic fit. He doesn’t throw them very often, so she likes to revel in them when they do happen.

“Perhaps, but you’ll be very well dressed.”

“Oh, well, that’s a comfort.” He glares at her.

“Good!” She grins brightly at him, then grabs his shoulders and turns him around, pushing him toward the door. “Now, have a good time, and don’t come home early. I expect sordid details, Kristopher. Or, at least fluffy, happy ones. Like daisies. I want daisy stories, Kris, and I don’t care what you have to do to get them.”

“Why are we friends, again?” Kris whines, knowing he lost long before he started putting up a fight.

“Because I am fabulous, I keep you from looking like a hillbilly hobo in public, and very few people will put up with your whinging for this long.”

Megan turns Kris around to face her.

“Kris. Look, I know you’re not comfortable with the whole dating scene, but it doesn’t always have to be like at a club, with the leering and groping and obscenely unsubtle advances or whatever. This guy is supposed to be, like, the biggest sweetheart on the planet. Allison wouldn’t steer me wrong, and I wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt you. Just… trust me, just this once, okay? If this fails in the epic way you’re thinking, then we won’t do the whole blind set up date thing; we’ll make sure you’ve at least seen the guy beforehand, or something. But, please, just give this a chance- a _real_ chance- for me.”

Well, crap.

  
\-----

  
“It’s _one date_ , Adam. And he’s not a creep or axe murderer or anything, okay? Meg says he’s a total sweetheart, and really funny, and very laid-back, just like you like. Plus, he’s supposed to be a major babe.”

“Don’t say ‘major babe’, it makes you sound old, in a bad way.”

“Whatever. Just, give it a shot, okay? For meee?” Allison prods.

Adam glares down at her, her face stretched comically in an exaggerated pleading expression, clinging to his arm.

“Ugh, fine.” He shakes her off gently, not really as upset as he’s acting. It’s the principle of the thing. “But you are going to have to hear every horrible detail when I get home. And you owe me something pretty.”

“Yes, yes, now, go. You’re going to be late. For a very important date.” She giggles at herself, receiving the goodbye kiss to her cheek and watching with motherly fondness as Adam half-stomps out the door.

  
\-----

  
The restaurant is nice; comfortable without being overly casual.

Kris asks the hostess if anyone by the name of ‘Adam’ has checked in, yet. They were to ask for the other party, and if they were the first to arrive, then leave the other’s name with the host/hostess to be on the lookout.

The tiny, Hawaiian-looking girl smiles prettily, “Yes, he’s just arrived. I seated him not five minutes ago. This way.”

All of those anxieties, the insecurities, the blinding fears (hey- maybe that’s why they’re called ‘blind dates’), they all come rushing back into Kris’ mind.

What if he’s scary? What if he’s boring? What if he takes one look at me and starts thinking of ways to escape? What if he has the real Adam tied up or dead in his trunk, and he’s going to kidnap me, too, and, oh, god, I’m gonna end up on the news. What if- what if he’s--

\--gorgeous? Dressed like a rock star, with a face that belongs on a billboard, hair begging to have fingers rake through it, stunning, long-fingered hands fidgeting with a glass of iced tea, rings taking the low lighting and reflecting it back out like winking stars, and lips that… lips that curve into a nervous smile when their owner notices that he’s about to have company. What if _that_ happens?

Kris is about to find out.

  
Oh please, _please_ be him. Oh my gods, please let that be Kris. The universe can not be so cruel that this guy ends up walking by. Holy crap, is he- is he looking at me? Oh my god, please be Kris.

“Here we are.” The little hostess shows Kris to the table, laying a menu on the table for him. “Candice will be your waitress, she’ll be by to get your drink order in a minute. Enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you, Jasmine.” Kris murmurs, never taking his eyes off of his date.

Adam stands up respectfully, shaking Kris’ hand almost mechanically. Valiantly, Adam ignores the way Kris’ hand fits absolutely perfectly inside his own, and the smooth/rough contrast between the fingertips and the rest.

Yep. Totally ignoring it.

“Hi.” Adam finally chokes out.

Kris doesn’t seem to be in a much better state. “Hey. Hi.”

They take their seats, suddenly nervous, flittery and avoiding eye contact.

An awkward, uncomfortable, blind-date-worthy set of minutes passes.

Out of nowhere, Adam lets out a laugh, then covers his mouth, eyes wide but amused. He shakes his head at the confused expression on Kris’ face.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… this is ridiculous. And this is why I hate blind dates.”

Kris interrupts, relieved, “I know! They’re awful!”

“ _Right?!_ Ugh. I wouldn’t have agreed to it, except Allison gave me that _face_ \- she has this _face_ , and it’s just--”

“Oh, trust me, I _know_ the face. Megan has that _face_.” Kris nodded, voice droll and empathetic with Adam’s plight.

“Girls.” Adam grouses, only half-way joking.

Kris grins kind of wickedly, “At least we don’t have to date them.”

A bright, joyous sound leaps from Adam’s mouth, and the whole atmosphere shifts. The dam breaks, and now there’s no limit to the topics of conversation, the flow of words, the laughter between the two.

From then on, it’s as if they have known each other forever; comfortable in a way that usually takes years to develop.

  
By the time dinner is taken away and the dessert menus are in their hands, they’ve both forgotten that there was any uneasiness, or that this was ever anything other than their idea.

“That cheesecake looks amazing.” Adam comments, almost wistfully.

“Mm.” Kris agrees. “I’m thinkin’ that brownie ice cream fudge thing. Are you getting the raspberry swirl or the regular New York style?”

“Oh, no, I’m not going to get anything.”

“Too full?”

Adam makes a rueful face. “Um, I just kind of have to, ya know, watch what I eat.”

Kris’ eyebrows flex upward, “Oh. Diabetic?”

Adam chuckles, giving Kris an expression that says, ‘you are seriously too cute for words.’

“No, nothing like that.” Off Kris’ now completely confused features, “In my line of work, one can never have too few desserts.” He says diplomatically.

It’s like all of Kris’ facial parts have decided to converge into the center, scrunched around his wrinkled nose. That improbable bottom lip juts out even further. Adam can’t help but laugh a little.

“You are so frickin’ cute.” And, okay, he didn’t exactly mean to say that out loud, but it put this insanely adorable blush across Kris’ cheeks and back toward his ears, so Adam really can’t kick himself too much.

“Wha-- I… don’t know what to say to that, so, um. But, wait, you’re saying you’re, what, watching your girlish figure?”

Adam makes a face, and there’s a bit of embarrassment in there, and Kris doesn’t think that will do at all.

Before Adam can reply, Kris is saying, “Seriously? Okay, you do get that you’re gorgeous, right? Like, make-people-trip-over-their-own-feet-staring-at-you, supermodel hot.”

Adam is bordering on hysteria, laughing, and Kris seems to only be getting warmed up.

 __

_Who is this kid?_

 

“No, I’m gonna totally embarrass myself right now, because apparently I can’t get my mouth to stop, but when I first saw you? I actually, no lie, thought to myself that you belonged on a billboard, advertising, like, how to look like a rock star or something. Except that would be dangerous, cuz you’d probably cause so many traffic accidents, they’d have to take it down.”

It’s worrying, the colors Adam is turning. It’s part blush and part oxygen deprivation. It’s also completely worth whatever it cost Kris’ pride.

He’s waving his hand, trying to get Kris to stop so he can take a breath.

“You’re making my eyeliner run; stop!” He gasps out.

Candice finishes with a table nearby, and Kris hails her.

“Excuse me, Candice? My friend, here, will have the cheesecake, and I’ll have that fudge brownie ice cream thing.” He’s still giggling, the sound and picture of it rubbing off on everyone privy to the scene.

“Sure thing. Regular or raspberry?”

Adam blinks, but he can’t get any words out with his mouth wrapped around his whole head in a smile. Somehow, his wild gestures are able to indicate to the veteran waitress of his preference.

“Great, one brownie bowl and one New York style cheesecake coming up.”

“I can’t believe you!” Adam hisses, finally getting most of himself under control. “You are murder on my waistline, you know that?”

“Well, if you’re so concerned, we’ll just have to work it off, later.”

Kris really didn’t mean to say that, okay? Not the way it sounds, but, now that it’s out there, he’s kind of wondering why not.

Apparently watching Kris’ mental conversation play out on his face, Adam chuckles, fighting down the urge to let loose in another giggle fit. The butterflies in his stomach are just giddy now, and feeding off of the release laughing gives them.

“Um…” Kris sort of hums out, blushing. Because it’s what he does.

“I can pretend you didn’t say that.” Adam offers, generous and genuine.

Kris takes a second to think it over. Gnawing on the corner of his bottom lip, he shrugs, not really meeting Adam’s eyes.

“If you want to.”

A well-manicured eyebrow raises. “If _I_ want to?” Then, “If I want to, what? Forget? Or work it off later?”

It’s always good to know where you stand in these kinds of situations, just to keep miscommunication to a minimum.

Now Kris’ gaze locks onto Adam’s, cuz, _whoa_.

“Um.” He repeats.

“Too forward? I’m just curious which you meant. No need to freak out or anything.”

“I’m not freaking out.” And he really isn’t, which is kind of strange, considering how he probably should be, at least a little.

He’d looked away momentarily, but a wave of _something_ bubbles up his spine and takes over his mouth.

“I’m actually wondering if it’s too late to get our dessert to go.”

The rush of bravery or overactive libido or whatever that was, drains out as soon as the words are said, and now he’s stuck being _Kris_ , and _Kris_ does not know how to deal with the fact that he just propositioned the most attractive human being he’s ever seen in real life. Or possibly ever, period. He doesn’t even invite people back to his place the first time he meets them at a bar or club, whether they suggest it or not.

And, oh god, he doesn’t even know if Adam-- oh my god, Adam never actually _said_ he was hoping for the- the- oh god, I can’t look. If I don’t look, maybe he won’t laugh me off the face of the earth.

Kris’ eyes- the evil, masochistic traitors- disregard the whole ‘not looking’ decision, and tilt up until he’s staring at Adam through his lashes, bottom lip being tortured by his teeth.

Of course, Adam’s brain is short-circuiting all over the place, and he’s pretty sure there’s some kind of misfiring going on in the hearing department, because _no freakin’ way_ did that real-life example of his type (with a few bonuses thrown in) just say what his ears heard.

Oh, the _eyes_. The eyes with the _lashes_ and the frickin’ _mouth_ , come on!

But, no, Adam is cool now, and does not freak out over boys. Even really pretty ones with perfect bone structure and a mouth made for sin. Nope, not even then.

Adam goes to respond -though, Lord knows what he was gonna say- but Kris starts apologizing.

“I’m sorry, that was- that wasn’t, um- I didn’t mean to say… that.”

“You didn’t?” It’s a close thing, keeping the pout out of his voice.

“No! I don’t know what came over me, I- I’m never so… brazen, I guess. I’m not one of those guys, ya know?”

Adam wonders if maybe he ought to tell Kris that _he is_.

“I mean, not that I’m, ya know, really timid or anything. I just don’t usually say things like that to, ya know, p-people I don’t really, uh, know.” Wow, sound more like a moron, Kris. Jeez.

A heavy but friendly sigh, and Adam decides to put the poor kid out of his misery.

“Kris.”

“Ah-hm?”

“Let’s make this simple, okay?”

Huge brown eyes turn cartoonish with worry, and that lip gets more abuse, which, yeah, distracting.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yes.” Oh, phew, and easy one.

“Do you think it would be okay if I asked to see you again?”

“Like, a- a second date?” He’s already nodding, in case that’s what he meant.

“Yes, like a second date. That would work for you?”

“Definitely.”

Adam can’t help the happy grin that word brings out. He’s still nervous about things like this, even after all this time. Insecurities are hard to lose.

In case there was any doubt, “It works for me, too. A lot.”

It seems there might have been some doubt, after all, but now Kris’ smile is wide and relieved.

The desserts arrive before anything more can be said.

  
Adam did not think this through. He either completely spaced or underestimated Kris Allen eating a round brownie with ice cream and hot fudge inside.

Candice had brought two utensils each, in case they wanted to share. Right now, Adam kind of wants to use the second fork to stab himself in the hand for his stupidity.

Another swipe of that tongue licks up an errant drop of fudge.

“How’s your cheesecake?” He asks, full of innocence.

The only word coming to Adam’s mind is, “Unbelievable.” It covers so many things.

Kris wiggles happily, like a puppy being told it’s good.

 _Such a good boy, Kris._   And, wow, that’s got a whole other flavor in Adam’s mind; he is never going to be able to leave this table.

“Awesome. This is amazing, too. Have a bite.” He offers, pushing the plate closer to Adam.

Adam eyes it like it’s going to jump up and latch itself onto his face. Or maybe just his hips.

“Uh-”

“C’mon, try it.”

“You were that kid in school, weren't you?”

“Nah, but I do have a younger brother.”

Adam nods, carefully selecting a small piece of Kris’ dessert to sample.

“You’re welcome to this, too, you know.”

Another happy wiggle, and Kris takes the opportunity to try out Adam’s delicious-looking cheesecake.

“Oh, my god. You’re right, this is unbelievable.”

Adam doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s quite possible that Kris’ dessert is on par with, like, the high that comes from hours of free-minded club dancing. It’s almost an experience unto itself, and if Kris didn’t look so equally delicious eating it, Adam would not be giving it back.

See, this is why he has to avoid sweets- once he gets a taste of something good, it’s torture letting go.

“It probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway.” Kris says out of nowhere.

Still uncertain as to Kris’ expectations or anticipations for/about Adam, all he can give Kris is a questioning, blank look.

“The desserts-to-go idea.” He gestures with the spoon in his left hand. “Ice cream. It melts.”

“Ah, yes. That would have been messy.” No, Adam is not now entertaining thoughts of ice cream and fudge, towels, and Kris splayed out on his bed. Really. …oh, my god, hot fudge blowjob… I swear, this kid is Hell on the integrity of my jeans, in more ways than one.

“Can I have another bite of cheesecake? I want to dip it in the fudge.”

Adam nods, and takes the liberty of gesturing for taking another scoop of Kris’ dessert, which is granted.

The brownie/ice cream/hot chocolate fudge combination hits Adam’s taste buds, and his eyes involuntarily close. He sits there, spoon clamped in his mouth by slightly upturned lips, tongue sucking every last trace of flavor from it, a happy hum sneaking out as he exhales through his nose.

Kris decides that he will spend however long Adam will allow him in his company, feeding him foods that make him make that face and sound. He kind of wonders- briefly!- what Adam would look like with his luscious mouth over Kris’ cock, but that’s dangerous territory, for a number of reasons, and Kris focuses on the taste of fudge-covered cheesecake, instead. It’s a decent distraction.

Once Adam wakes from his yummy-food-induced stupor, Kris tells him, “You’ve got to try that.” Meaning the fudge/cheesecake invention.

It isn’t exactly the same face, but it isn’t one Kris would turn down.

“That is good.”

“Right? See, food is not your enemy. Food is our friend.”

Adam tips his head back with a bark of laughter.

Taking the cleaned spoon, Kris holds it upside-down by its handle, swinging it like a pendulum. “Food is friend, not foe.” He intones, hypnotist-style.

Those times when Adam won’t eat whatever Kris will be trying to put in his mouth to make him make that face again, he will gladly substitute Adam laughing. It’s like pure joy; a childish glee, and it needs to be all the time, because Kris is sure it makes the world a better place, just by happening.

“Where did you even come from?” Adam asks incredulously, once the fit subsides.

“Arkansas. Dude, we talked about this. Oh, no. Is this gonna be like 50 First Dates, and we’re gonna wake up and you’re not gonna know who I am?”

It takes Adam’s stilted reaction to make Kris realize what he just inferred.

Oh.

Kris throws one (non-utensil-holding) hand in the air, landing it smack on his face, and shaking his head.

“Oh, my god, seriously, Kris? Dude, come on.” Kris chides himself. Adam finds that infinitely charming, and chuckles, reaching to pry the hand from Kris’ face.

“No, now, Kris, that face is too pretty to hide. Granted, we should wait a while before going outside, because planes might start landing due to the glowing you’re doing, but…”

“Shu’up.” Kris mumbles through a grin. Wait a second, “Pretty?”

The expression that spreads out and darkens Adam’s face sends legitimate shivers down Kris’ spine and a wake of goose bumps over his skin.

Undeniable heat burns in the blue of Adam’s eyes, lips bent wicked, predatory.

“Oh, yes.” His voice is thick, like molasses. He hardly sounds like the same person. “You are _very_ pretty. You don’t even know, do you, Kris?” A tongue whips out, wetting a freckled bottom lip; teeth taking it in, an action borne of dirty contemplation.

Kris gulps. Loud. Brown is pushed back by expanding black, and lips that are the cause of so much discomfort below the table part unconsciously, breaths coming more quickly, but shallower. It feels a little like a sheet drying warm and sunny on a line breaking free, wrapping around you, and smothering you.

It’s possible there’s a squeak; we won’t talk about it.

As quickly as it came, the Possession By Dark Overlord (Of Porn) behavior clears, and then it’s just Adam, taking another bite of cheesecake, smiling innocuously across the table.

Yeah, Kris really needs to hit that. Tonight. Sooner rather than later. Maybe… No. That would be so totally inappropriate.

Kris catches the fleeting end of Adam skirting his gaze away from their happy place: Kris’ mouth.

Another heavy but comfortable minute passes, and Kris is about ready to start steaming out the top of his head.

“Hey, listen-” And at this point, Adam is _freaking out_. What good could possibly come from a sentence starting that way? “I know this is probably the most inappropriate… whatever-like question or comment… thing, but, um, do you think- I mean, after this, could- do you want to maybe go, um, back, ya know, to, um, one of- one of our places? Like, um…”

Kris has no idea why he can’t get any sensical words out. It’s like this guy just sucks them right out of his brain. If he has any kind of good karma or whatever stored up, he might even be able to have him suck other things… Kris! Good grief, man. You are in public. Pull yourself together.

That might be Adam’s favorite time being hit on, ever- thought tripping and all.

He can’t hide the grin that crawls up unbidden, and he thinks he shouldn’t try, because somehow Kris still hasn’t gotten the idea. You know, the one that says Adam is willing (and oh, so ready) to do anything Kris wants.

“My place is ten minutes from here.”

“Mine’s fifteen.”

“Then it’s settled. Glad I made my bed this morning.” Adam smirks.

The blush! Oh my gosh, the blush that takes over Kris’ whole head- ‘tis glorious. It might actually be tinting Kris’ _hair_. Adam is itching to find out how far down it goes.

Now that this prospect is hanging obstructively in the air, the boys finish their desserts- sharing is caring- and get the bill.

While Adam is counting out the cash for his half, Kris asks, “Hey, do you mind if you just give me the cash for yours, and I’ll put it all on my card? I get miles with it, and I’m trying to save up to visit back home.”

“Sure. Do you still think of Arkansas as home?”

Kris makes one of his scrunch faces. “Mm, not really. It’s where all my family is, though. My parents still live in the house where I grew up, so that feels like ‘home’, but Arkansas as a state, or Conway in general? Not so much, anymore. I guess I’ve always been more about the people and the heart than the place.”

Adam hums thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s good you’re not still pining for the place. I mean, I miss my mom, but I couldn’t live in that city anymore; it was killing me.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t live there, anymore, too. And not just for purely selfish reasons, either.” Kris teases mildly.

“I gotta tell you, though, I’m okay with the selfish reasons.” Adam assures, smiling at Kris, who is signing the receipt and putting his card away.

The two stand up, and it’s a sudden rush when the two finally stand in front of each other, unobstructed.

Kris tips his head back with a wry expression. “I feel very short right now.”

He hadn’t meant it as anything but a joke, but Adam- who had already noticed the fact that, yeah, Kris is considerably under-tall- only smiles that dirty grin from earlier, and looks a little like a wolf eyeing its prey.

“I like it.” This darker Adam murmurs low enough that only Kris could hear him.

A strange reaction happens, where Kris loses all the air in his body, but gasps at the same time, a sort of stuttered thing that makes Adam’s grin stretch farther out, and puts a weight on his eyelids, pulling them down slightly to hood the quickly dilating pupils.

“Ma-” Kris squeaks, actually squeaks, before clearing his throat and composing himself. “I think I should maybe go to the restroom before we go.” Because if he doesn’t cool down _right now_ , he is not going to be able to walk out of here.

Adam nods, and watches Kris make his way shakily to the back of the restaurant.

 

 _What a view._

 

Then he realizes something. He’s just _standing_ in the middle of the aisle, watching a back end he wants to frickin’ bite through those perfectly snug jeans. Just _standing_ there. WTF, Adam? Seriously.

  
The door opens, but Kris doesn’t pay any attention to it, still splashing water on his face. He turns to grab a paper towel, to find that two are being held out to him.

“Oh, thanks.” He manages sheepishly, blotting the dripping water, and doing his best to hide his face for as long as possible.

I mean, really, how embarrassing is it to need a potty break just to get control of yourself for a ten minute ride? Ride… yeah, that sounds… awh, come on! But, seriously, what is Adam going to think?

Adam is thinking a lot of things, but none of them make any sense; they’re just words and sounds and a lot of white noise that makes Adam’s brain an unintelligible cacophony with one, thrumming undercurrent of want. That’s it. Just- _want_.

“What?”

Oh. Crap. Said that out loud. …Oh, well.

Double checking that the bathroom is empty, Adam reaches back and locks the door. Shuffling Kris into the handicapped stall, Adam decides to just go with it.

“ **Want**.” He growls, again.

Kris breathes out an “Oh,” and seems completely on board with this idea.

“Thought about this earlier, but didn’t want to seem… yeah.” Cut off by a hand on his shoulder and one on his neck, Kris decides talking is overrated and unnecessary.

The first brush of lips is a greeting, soft and sweet, a test of the waters.

A tongue peeks out and grazes a distracting bottom lip.

There’s a small noise accompanying the granting of entrance into the warm cavern of a mouth.

And then. Then, there is sucking and licking and nibbling and moaning that gets louder, and with every dive into the kiss, hips and hands roll and jerk and grip, and it’s starting to get really close to impossible to stop.

Adam tugs on Kris’ lip with his teeth, and Kris makes a little whine that suctions Adam’s hand to Kris’ hipbone, thumb rubbing back and forth under his shirt. Those hips try to twitch upward, but the fingers brace harder, and he’s held in place.

Kris makes what would probably be an embarrassing groan, and absolutely _melts_ against Adam. The fact that Kris gets off on being held down like that is such a turn on for Adam that he can’t help but push a bit harder, pinning Kris to the wall, and licking hot into his open mouth.

“W-we- oh, oh- nggh, uhh-ohhh--” Poor Kris. He may never recover.

Panting and writhing, one leg kicking out fitfully, Kris finally is able to get the message of, “We need to get out of here” across.

“Wanna suck you.” Adam confesses like fire into Kris’ ear.

A long moan and a twisting move that Adam still can’t figure out, and Kris somehow has Adam against the wall, legs slightly spread, and Kris is on his knees, working on removing Adam’s jeans.

“Wh- buh- b- but--”

Kris grunts a hushing noise to Adam, and - _finally!_ \- gets Adam’s jeans -and that freaking belt, which, honestly, is just a hazard as far as Kris is concerned- down enough to where he can get at Adam’s cock.

Now, Adam’s had a few interesting reactions to people seeing him naked, or at least that part of him. There’s surprise, intimidation, impression, intrigue or fascination (like he’s some kind of experiment or something), shock, jealousy, fear, and desire. He’s expecting some initial wide eyes and high eyebrows, but he’s hoping Kris isn’t going to freak out or anything.

What Adam does not expect is Kris’ millisecond of _whoa_ to be followed by a cross between excitement and intense lust. The boy has his luscious mouth around the head of his dick and is sucking so fast it’s like lightning struck.

“Kris!” Adam does his very best not to shout, but has to put the back of his hand against his mouth, and shove one into Kris’ hair just to stay standing.

Palming the back of Kris’ head, Adam can do nothing but hold on and let himself revel in the sensations.

Kris knows they haven’t got long- someone’s going to want to use the bathroom soon- and he wants to do so, so much, he can’t see straight (no pun intended). This will have to be a quick and dirty job; he just couldn’t go another second without this. Not after hearing Adam-- I mean, _really_.

The memory of the sound of Adam’s voice when he told Kris he wanted to do this very thing, pushes Kris forward into taking all but maybe an inch into his mouth, relaxing his throat to let it slip down into that tight heat, the way he likes it.

Adam starts to whisper a chant of Kris’ name, tugging on the short strands of his hair. Kris keeps the smile off his lips, and he sucks harder, swallowing. The break in Adam’s voice and twist of his fingers puts a hum somewhere in the back of Kris’ mouth, reverberating around the hot length filling it, and he feels the slick release shoot down while he sucks and swallows greedily.

It’s a groan and an inhaled shout and a whimper all in one, and Adam wants to preserve this moment for the rest of his life, because, _seriously_? _Seriously?_ If this is what Kris can do, rushed, in a bathroom stall… And, this could very well be one of his dick’s top five favorite experiences, so. Yeah. He’s totally keeping this one. Good gods.

   
There’s a knock at the door, and Adam tells whoever it is, “Just a minute. Dealing with a small crisis. Thanks!”

Looking down at Kris dusting off his knees and raking his hand through his disheveled hair, Adam notices he’s been tucked and zipped and buckled up, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Oh, baby, you are a mess.” He comments, low and appreciative.

Adam, who has some experience in these types of situations, devises a plan to quickly extricate the pair of them from the building.

“Follow my lead, and keep your head down. Can’t have people seeing that mouth of yours.”

“Bad?”

“Gorgeous.” How is he supposed to resist stealing just one little kiss? He isn’t. He can’t. So he doesn’t.

Another knock, harder, more insistent.

Adam opens the door so that the annoying intruder falls forward slightly.

“I’m so sorry, but my friend,” Adam has his arm wrapped securely around Kris’ shoulders, tucking him into his side, Kris’ hand over his mouth, and eyes downcast. “He got some news just now, and he couldn’t-- Well, anyway, we had a little meltdown, but we’re okay, now, and we’re gonna get him home.”

He says that last part to Kris with a fondness that bespeaks of true compassion. In short: Adam is frickin’ good at acting. It’s not lying; he’s playing a part. Totally different.

The manager is sympathetic, especially when Kris curls himself into Adam a little further, like he’s really suffering. Which he is. He still hasn’t gotten off, and it’s about to cripple him.

“Hey,” Adam says, quieter, “Is there some way out of here that doesn’t involve parading him through the entire restaurant?”

“Sure, sure.” And they’re led to the back exit, wished well, and sent on their way.

They get to Adam’s car, get in, and laugh themselves silly.

“Where’s your car?”

“Oh, I took the bus.”

A crooked smirk. “Good.”

The car starts with a promise, and Adam does his best not to break any traffic laws on the way home. Not exactly an easy task, what with Kris in the passenger seat palming his own crotch to ease the ache, and making these noises, and his breath is hitching on occasion, and Adam seriously needs to get this boy in his bed, **_now_**. Like, twenty-minutes-ago _now_.

“I really hope it isn’t much farther, cuz I’m about to jack off right here if I have to wait much longer.” Kris’ voice is breathy and strained.

Okay, so maybe Adam breaks a few minor traffic laws. They’re more like guidelines, anyway.

 

 

 

 


End file.
